


Before, During, And Sometime After

by futuraultra



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), VerKwan - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuraultra/pseuds/futuraultra
Summary: this is a very small collection of verkwan drabbles based on my two verkwan fics.do not read these until you've read those because these drabbles are full of spoilers!original fics: "Remember Me As A Time of Day" and "Everywhere and Right Here"i've organized these drabbles into each fic so you know what timeline it's taking place in!





	Before, During, And Sometime After

Everywhere And Right Here: 

1)

We formed a little band of brothers that summer, and boy did we milk it for all it was worth. Hansol, Mingyu, Minghao, and I would sometimes drive into the city and get slizzered on the streets, inevitably having to leave our car somewhere shady and getting yelled at the next day by one of our moms.  
The four of us actually hung out every weekend. From Friday through Sunday, we were glued to each other like our lives depended on it. One night we got so drunk that Minghao and Mingyu even made out in the bed of Hansol’s baby blue truck. The next day Hansol flooded our group chat with pictures of the incident and Minghao immediately removed himself only to ask to be added back the next day.  
Of course, that wasn’t the last time we’d witness Minghao and Mingyu makeout. One weekend we all went to BamBam’s going away party at his apartment; he would be leaving to go work overseas for a while, and he was throwing a party to end all parties.  
The four of us made our way to Bam’s apartment complex, with every intention of getting so drunk that we would forget our own names.  
BamBam greeted us at his door once we got up into the building. This time his hair is white, blindingly so, but he’s still wearing an expensive suit with that same chanel brooch.  
He let’s the four of us in, and in exchange Minghao hands him a little bag of weed. As soon as we step foot passed the doorway, it’s on. Our group is slamming down shots like we have a gun to our heads. It takes us no more than 20 minutes to get absolutely hammered-a solid record if I do say so myself.  
We all kind’ve tottle around for awhile, drunkenly laughing and making nonsense conversation to the strangers around us.  
Maybe an hour in, maybe two, who’s really to say, someone yells “who wants to play spin the bottle!” Suddenly, a circle forms in the middle of the elaborate living room. There are only about 15 people in it; small in comparison to the near 100 people that are probably at this party right now.  
Those not in the circle are either watching on, or continuing their idle chatter on the outskirts of the room; every last person with a drink in their hand.  
In the middle of the circle is a empty bottle of cheap vodka. The only people I know in the circle is Hansol, Mingyu, and Minghao, and I’d be lying if I said the thought of kissing a complete stranger didn’t make my stomach flip, even through my drunkenness.  
A beautiful girl with the longest hair I’ve ever seen spins the bottle first. She’s so beautiful that I don’t even watch the bottle as it slowly comes to a stop on me. Everyone giggles like little kids as I snap out of my trance. The mystery girl crawls slowly and seductively across the circle to me. Her eyes are dark with lust, and as she gets closer, I can smell her expensive perfume that douses my senses.  
She holds my chin in her hand, and playfully nips my lip before closing in for the kiss. It’s slow and passionate, and her lip gloss tastes of bubblegum. She pulls away from the kiss and steals a final lick from my mouth as she returns to her original spot in the circle.  
A few more people spin the bottle, one guy lands on Hansol and I have to say I have never been so jealous as I was in those few seconds. Watching another man, feel Hansol’s chest up and down, seeing the way his lip turned up at the edges with each breath he took. When he pulls away, Hansol looks over to me and smirks. He rubs my leg with reassurance, but I’m sure he can tell that I’m fuming.  
Looking back, I’m sure Hansol may have felt the same way, watching me kiss that girl. I don’t know. He was never the jealous type, and I always was.  
Next is Mingyu, (and to everyone’s secret pleasure) his spin lands on Minghao. Minghao is the kinda guy who wants to give off that cool vibe like he fucks all the time and nothing phases him, when it’s so obvious it does. Everybody ever knows that he has the biggest crush on Mingyu, which I mean, I’m sure everyone does. But he’s always the type to hide it, he always says he’s not the “relationship type.”  
So to the group’s surprise, as soon as the bottle lands on Minghao, he’s straddling Mingyu’s lap with his tongue down Mingyu’s throat. Alcohol really is liquid courage. We all watch in awe, and honestly some horny silence, as Mingyu grabs Minghao’s ass as Minghao grinds into him, all the while, lips locked and tongues swirling with primal hunger.  
I gotta admit, it was pretty hot, and I could feel a sigh of disappointment wash over the room as they pulled away from the kiss. Minghao wipes his lips and returns to his spot, never taking his gaze off of Mingyu’s.  
They disappeared from the living room not too long after, and it doesn’t take a scholar to guess where they had gone and what they were doing.  
For the second time, we all crashed at BamBam’s. Thankfully, Minghao stayed this time and we didn’t have to catch the bus.  
Things were weird between Mingyu and Minghao after that. I think admittance of love should have come before sex, especially between them. They’re people of the heart deep down, and I think what they did wasn't what they really craved, and perhaps that night ruined something that could’ve been.  


 

2)

The summer was ours, the rest of our lives were ours. We had nothing to lose, and we had nothing to gain, just the promise of sweet, honey nostalgia lay before us.  
It was the picture perfect beginning to our adult lives I guess. I was so in love, and things were so okay. Things have literally never been more okay.  
I remember one evening, Hansol and I decided to lay on the beach for longer than usual. We would normally watch the sunset then leave to go do anything and everything else together. But one night we stayed until the stars came out. Hansol desperately tried to teach me the constellations he knew, and I desperately tried to remember them.  
But even as I lay there, knowing full well I would forget all the stars he had taught me, I was enveloped with a feeling, one that couldn’t be given a name.  
It’s interesting to reflect on that night. It was one of the last night’s I ever saw him. And to see him that way, his face looking up at the heavens, illuminated by a light that was millions of years old, from stars long dead, was a poignant goodbye I suppose.  
At one point he closed his eyes and an eyelash fell onto his cheek. He always had the most beautifully long eyelashes. I picked it off his face and asked him to make a wish. He looked into my eyes for a moment, and then blew the eyelash off my finger, and into the world beyond.  
“What did you wish for?” I asked. “That forever could exist, and that it could be spent here with you.” He whispered.  
Looking back, I guess that’s why you don’t tell wishes, because they won’t come true. But sometimes that’s all you have are wishes, a hope for something that could never exist; a feeling that if you just wanted something hard enough, if everyone wanted enough, that maybe your wish could come true.  
I could never have known in that moment, that it was one of my final times with him. Blinded to hindsight, we just lay there, as two young lovers feeling the Earth rotate underneath them.

 

3)

The funeral was a “closed casket” of course. His body wasn’t even in it. He had decomposed from sitting on the bank, that they could only salvage so much. Hansol’s family just had the remains cremated.  
Mingyu was here. Minghao had fallen off the face of the Earth. We hadn’t heard anything from him since the original investigation, and his apartment had been empty for months. It’s probably toxic to reminisce on things that could’ve happened, especially when the topic at hand isn’t even mine to reminisce on; but still, I couldn’t help but wonder how Mingyu felt about Minghao’s sudden leaving.  
Sure, maybe things hadn’t gone the way they would’ve wanted it to, but I knew they still loved each other, even if that love wasn’t meant for this lifetime. But this all must’ve been a lot for him. Mingyu would text and call Minghao everyday, even though everytime, the line would be dropped, and an error message would be sent back.  
I still don’t know where Minghao went. I hope everyday that he still exists, out there…somewhere. I hope he thinks about us. About our little town that he had grown too big for. I knew Hansol was important to him too, even if he didn’t always express it.  
I wish I could have touched Hansol one last time, and known that forever, there would be no more. Everytime I close my eyes, all I see is him. I don’t sleep, but I do dream. Always of him. Always of him.  
I can’t begin to understand why things are this way. I don’t think I ever will. There is no reason on this earth that he had to go now, not when I loved him this much.  
I just want to scream so loudly that the sky will tear in half. Scream so loudly that I myself will shatter; my lungs will burst and my blood will dry, leaving nothing but a pile of shards that smell of mahogany, and that smell I can’t pin down to this day.  
I walk up to the casket when no one is looking. It seems a mile away as I walk down the aisle of the funeral home. I finally reach it and once again, like the first days I was with him, I feel as if I’m standing at a precipice. My face is already sticky with tears from throughout the day, and the streaks that smatter my face are re-dampened with new ones as I look down at the light chestnut box. A few tears, no more than two or three, drop onto the casket. I rub them in with my thumb, then rest my entire hand on the box. The empty box.  
I look up to the small window above the casket. The light of the afternoon is filtering in and reflecting on every dust particle of the room. Soon enough, it will be evening.  
“I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?” I whisper. I still have that book. I had never given it back to him all those years ago. He never asked.  
I stand at the casket for what seems like forever and a day, not thinking anything, just feeling something that is only felt right now, right here. Suddenly, a hand is placed on my shoulder. I turn around. It’s Mingyu.  
He pulls me into a hug, and we just weep. And weep, and weep. I can hear his heart as we stay in our embrace, it’s calm, just like it’s always been.  
I look up at him, and he down at me. His eyes have stars in them, like…..like a child’s. He is still him, and even through everything...even down to the bone, I am still me.  
It hits me as we hug, that I am not the only one left here, on this earth. Mingyu is left here too. Hansol’s mom is left here. His dad is left here. Sophia is left here. We are all left here. In a broken mirror, in a fogged window, in a loose floorboard.  
Hansol existed before me, he’ll always be right about that. He existed to Mingyu. He existed to him as a child, a specific moment that I’ll never see. A part of Hansol that exists only within Mingyu.  
The question now is, will I exist after Hansol? He always said I would, but I never thought a post-Hansol world would ever occur in my lifetime.  
Mingyu eventually pulls me out of the hug. The second he looks at me, he falls to his knees, and cries into his hands. I crouch down to hold him. Through his exacerbated breathing, he looks up at me and grabs my hands. He is still that boy I met years ago. His face is still innocent, and soft, he never changed.  
He reaches into his jacket pocket and what he brings out stops my heart and hitches my breath. Cradled in his large hands, are small, blue flowers. Forget me Nots.  
“I thought we could put them in his grave.” He says. “Forget me not! Said the flower.” I whisper to him. He gets off of the ground and hands me a small bundle of the delicate flowers that he’s tied with a little red ribbon.  
I hug him again. 

4)

Summer came again, as it always did and always would. My parents were packing up the house to sell, their final child, me, was out of the house at last, and I was spending my final summer at ground zero, the catalyst of it all.  
I walked down to the beach, of course. It’s empty, like it always is at this time of day. I sit down in the sand, removing my shoes and enveloping my bare feet in the warm grains.  
What was left after all of this? In the end? Not him. Sure, I was still around, but not in anyway I had been before. I know I’ve changed. But at times, I’m still fifteen on his front porch.  
What’s left at this point are remembrance and old books. His parents, keeping his room the way it was the last time he was in it. Some day, his belongings will turn to dust and blow away in a storm, and all that will remain is the promise of spreading the word. Of telling the world that he was here once too. That he went to school, and that he laughed, and that he loved. That he was the one responsible for missing book pages and unmade beds. That he was like the best dream you’ve ever had. That his cheeks flushed in the cold, and that when he smiled, you could see every last tooth. That when he was young, he held my hand in a field of flowers, and watched fireworks explode in the sky. That he was everything to me. That he was Hansol.  
One day, I too will no longer exist, and a short while after, I too will fade from the memory of the world and vanish into obscurity with Hansol; our final trip to the moon.

 

Remember Me As A Time Of Day:

1)

I ride my bike up to my driveway and lay it on it’s side, opening the garage would surely alert everyone in my house to my late arrival home. I slowly open my front door, and tiptoe down the hallway to my room. I quietly shut my bedroom door and jump onto my bed with a huff.  
My hands are still shaking as I think about that intimate encounter with my new friend. I close my eyes and think about his lips, how close they were to my own. How I breathed in his very essence as we inhaled and exhaled in the mutual, feverish space. His lips were so pink, supernaturally so. So much did I want to know how they tasted, probably of teen flush and berry libido.  
I open my eyes and run my hands down my stomach. I’m still clothed in his shirt, his scent. The shirt is plain and light blue, but fits me perfectly; two halves of the same whole I suppose.  
I grab the collar and bring it up to my nostrils. It smells of a deep clean I guess. A shirt waiting in the bottom of a drawer. Waiting to finally be worn yet again. A shirt that has seen a life that wasn’t mine. A shirt that had been places I wouldn’t go.  
I pull the shirt over my head till my whole face is surrounded by the cloth. I keep wildly smelling it, as if I only have a few more seconds before the shirt disintegrates between my fingers. I roll around on my bed, wearing the shirt as a mask, shielding me from all the bad things, blinding me to anything but him.  
I eventually take the shirt off my head, and hold it in my hands. “Is this like, super weird?” I think to myself. It definitely is but, to my deepest core all I want to do is drench myself in his scent, like some primordial being, freshly risen from the ashes of genesis.  
I fold the shirt and tuck it under my pillow. I cover myself up in a light sheet, and flick my lamp off. I fall asleep playing with the tag of his shirt from underneath my pillow.

 

2)

July had turned to August, and childhood had turned to hot pavement, and slamming screen doors.  
People always say your memories of the past are always better than that time actually was. I never thought that was a bad thing, but then again, I never thought, even in the moment, that these times could get any better.  
I remember lying on his lap on the bank of the creek. The sun would peek around the canopy of the trees and tickle the surface of my skin. Hansol would read to me, all the while playing with the nape of my neck:

“He came. He left. Nothing had changed. I had not changed.  
The world hadn’t changed. Yet nothing would be the same.  
All that remains is dreammaking and strange remembrance.”

He would talk so softly, like if he spoke any louder he could shatter my bones. I would nod off to sleep and he’d always tease me, leaning down right next to my ear and whispering: “Am I boring you Seungkwan? Surely you wouldn’t want to nap here in the forest? But I can leave you here to do that if you want.”  
One time him and I built a rope swing over the deepest part of the creek. We would see who could get the most air before splashing into the water below. Unfortunately the limb we had hung it on snapped and I bashed my head on a rock along the bank.  
My mom threw a fit when I came home all bloodied and told me I wasn’t allowed at the creek again. But of course, Hansol would sneak me out of my house late at night, when the wind would chill and my cul de sac would be illuminated with moonlight.  
We would sneak Mingyu out of his house too and we would all go skinny dipping in the creek and scream at the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thank you for reading these! i hope you enjoyed them.
> 
> some of you have read both of my fics and have asked if i'll write anymore verkwan. i wrote these drabbles to fill in some gaps, but as far as more verkwan, i'm not sure.
> 
> i don't really want to write verkwan in another universe, i've become so attached to this one.  
> i've thought about writing this same story but from hansol's point of view. idk.
> 
> pls come hang out with me on my twitter! (@futuraultra) we can be mutuals and talk more there if you'd like!
> 
> pls leave your thoughts in the comments or tweet me! i'm not sure what the future of my ao3 account looks like right now.
> 
> thank you always for reading.


End file.
